What Will Your Mother Say
by Violets and Lilies
Summary: What is the Pride had met up with Simba and Nala before they got home? What if Simba had more time to talk with Sarabi before he fought Scar? What would their conversation be like? What advice might she give him? AU. Sequel to For Freedom


Nala stalked through the tall grass. Her stride was long, as if she were in a hurry, but in truth, she didn't know where she was going. She was frustrated and hurt—very hurt. She couldn't understand why Simba wouldn't accept that he was king. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming home.

She started running, the questions hitting her brain like a battering ram. What could she do to convince him to come home? Why didn't he believe her when she told him of the Pride's dire circumstances? Why was he dead-set against helping his family?

"Nala!" her mother's voice stopped her in her tracks. She whipped her head towards the sound and stared in surprise.

Sarafina trotted up, and Nala finally found her voice

"I thought the Pride was hunting in the Pridelands?" She was baffled.

Her mother nodded an assent and dropped her eyes for a moment in apology.

"Sorry love, but the hyenas gave us trouble wherever we went, so we eventually ranged this way." Her ears flickered back and forth with nervousness, "Scar doesn't know, of course."

"That goes without saying."

Sarafina looked curiously at her daughter.

"No luck, I guess?"

Nala kept her expression stone-like. There was too much pain in her heart to reveal this night's events without understanding them first but, she couldn't bring herself to flat-out lie.

"Nala! Sarafina!"

A breathlessly excited Sarabi spared her any decision—for now.

The older lioness trotted the last few steps and gave her young counterpart an affectionate head bump.

"The pride brought down a couple monkeys that weren't fast enough to get in the trees. They're waiting for us."

"Monkeys?" Nala asked, she, of course, hadn't eaten since before meeting up with Simba and was very hungry, "Is that going to be enough?"

"No, no, but it's something, at least." Sarabi was more jubilant than successful hunt would normally make her—a product of long months of insufficient food, Nala thought bitterly.

The bitterness changed to a leaping heart of hope and desperation when she thought of Simba. He should be here.

Keeping her head low, she stole sideways glances at her mother and her mentor—her heart yarning to tell Sarabi the truth.

* * *

They quickly joined the others and fell ravenously into the meat. For several minutes, no one spoke, but then one rather eager lioness pointed a question at Nala.

_The_ question. The question she dreaded.

"Any luck?"

"Well—ah uh err, well, yes" She finally confessed. She hated the thought of lying to her family.

The meat was instantly forgotten. Every eye was on Nala as she looked at each of her pride mates in turn, wondering what to say. Most of their expressions mixed eagerness, nervousness, and trust in her judgment.

When her gaze fell on her mother, she saw excitement, but confused at Nala's hesitation. When she looked at Sarabi, she saw that pleasure was making an attempt to banish deep pain, but not quite succeeding.

"It doesn't sound promising with all your hems and haws" Sarafina gently asked for an explanation.

Nala dropped her gaze, "It's not a done deal yet."

"How old is he?" Another lioness, ignored Nala's explanation and stepped over the usual hierarchy, but no one seemed to care.

"The same as me." Nala's voice was robotic. She didn't want to raise hopes.

"How big is he?" That question almost broke her façade. It was almost funny to be describing Simba to his own family.

"Big."

"So what's the hold-up?" Her mother again.

"We had an argument."

"Oh, Nala, you know the Pride's future depends on you—"

"I know mother," Nala cut her off rather sharply, then turned her eyes to the ground in frustration—pain threatening to bubble out of her.

"I need to find him," she said through grinding teeth.

She turned abruptly and loped off toward the trees, leaving the Pride, with startled expressions, quickly behind.

* * *

Nala had looked for hours, but there was no sign of him. She was weary and sad. As she walked, the morning sun was streaming through the trees, creating a dabbled effect on the foliage closer to the ground.

Perhaps she should give up. Perhaps she should let Simba live the life he obviously wanted too.

And yet…she couldn't stop searching. She couldn't let him leave his family. She could let him leave her.

A familiar voice reached her ears. She froze, her eyes growing wide.

"Guys, I _have_ to go back! It's my kingdom, my family, my responsibility."

_It was him! _She burst through the underbrush.

"_Simba_!"

He, was momentarily frozen with surprise, but recovered quickly to accept her long head bump.

"!-I'm sorry about last night," he fumbled for words, and then grew more comfortable, "I was wrong to want to stay here."

"_What_!"

The two lions looked down to see Timon, paws on his hips, looking quite displeased.

"You were wrong to not want to stay _here_?" He gestured around himself for emphasis, "We thought you liked it here? You have it made, Simba. Remember? No worries. No responsibilities." His paws returned to his hips, as he gave Simba an emphatic scowl.

Simba shook his head, sad that his friend didn't understand.

"But I _do_ have responsibilities, Timon," he said simply, "To my kingdom and my family."

Nala beamed at these words. She knew, she just knew, that he couldn't abandon them.

Then she thought of something, "The Pride is here too."

Simba pulled back and fear and pain briefly flickered across his face, but he recover quickly and only answered with a nervous, "You hadn't mentioned that."

Nala wondered why that would matter, but she pushed aside her concern. The memory of last night's argument was too fresh in her mind to press him, "I only met up with them after we argued. They were supposed to be hunting in the Pridelands, but the hyenas harassed them and they somehow ended up out here."

Simba offered a low snarl at the mention of the hyenas, but then gave her a quizzical look, "And you weren't hunting with them?"

"I was sent on a different mission."

"Oh?" He was curious, "And what was that?"

"To find a new king to lead us" She gave him a pointed look, "We're in really trouble back home. I was sent to find a lion who could overthrow Scar and bring life back to the land; someone who could save the Pride." Her expression warmed as she looked at him, "I never dreamed I'd run into the only one who has a lawful right to overthrow Scar."

Simba took a deep breath to gather the courage he'd discovered the night before—being king was something that he hadn't thought of in years, "Well, I kind of hate to admit this, but you aren't the only one who helped me find my way."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, some baboon, who apparently knows the family…I didn't remember him, but he knew so much about me…and dad. He helped me to see that I was wrong to want to stay here."

Nala nodded, her green-blue eyes sparkling, "That's Rafiki."

Simba thought for a long moment. "I remember that name—sort of."

"I should think so."

"_Ahem_!"

Timon looked indigent, his paws on his hips.

"So you're really going to do this."

Pumbaa bumped Timon with his snout and grunted his disapproval. Timon glared back,

"You mean _you_ approve of this abandoning?"

"I think Simba is doing what he needs to do—he's helping is family."

"But _we're_ his family!"

"That's why _we're_ going to help him."

Pumbaa slid his leg forward and gave a low bow, "At your service my liege."

Timon looked aghast and crossed his paws over his chest as Pumbaa left his side to stand next to the two lions.

Simba smiled down at his porky friend in appreciation. Nala turned back to the subject at hand.

"I didn't tell them that I found _you_—I couldn't bring myself to…until we talked again. I couldn't believe you'd really let us go on suffering under Scar."

There was another low snarl from Simba, "I can't understand why didn't take care of you guys—surely, he'd know something about running the kingdom…I thought you'd all be safe under him." He looked away suddenly, as if he had said too much.

Nala caught the expression, but wasn't sure that she should go there. Whatever Simba was thinking of was what had made him run off in the first place. Whatever it was had made them argue the night before. She didn't want him slipping away again.

"Shall we meet the Pride?" she coaxed.

Simba drew in another in a deep breath to gather his courage and let it out slowly.

"You think they'll take me back?" He looked something between worried and skeptical.

"They will be overjoyed," she reassured, with a twinge of emotion slipping out.

"Uh—Simba?"

The two lions turned their attention back to Pumbaa.

"Can I meet up with you guys a little later? I want to see if I can't talk Timon into coming along."

The all turned to see Timon sitting on the ground, his paws crossed over his chest, pouting.

* * *

Nala traveled quickly now—she felt as if she was running on air and her heart was light; she was bringing the king home. She'd pushed aside the unanswered questions.

She had left Simba waiting several miles back—neither of them wanted to cause the huge stir that Simba's sudden reappearance would bring without giving the Pride some time to digest the news. For probably the thousandth time, she rehearsed in her mind what she would say.

She slowed to a walk as she came over the crest of a hill and looked down to see the Pride resting from the noonday sun under acacia trees. Her heart beat a little quicker, but she knew very well that it wasn't from the exertion of her run.

She took a deep breath, descended the hill, and entered the camp with the authority of a queen.

"Sarabi. Mom—Come." She nodded towards a stand of trees and trotted towards them. The older lionesses looked at each other, startled, and then caught up quickly to follow.

Once under the safety of the trees, Sarafina felt the urge to ask her daughter what was going on, but Nala's expression silenced her—a feat only Sarabi, with all her regal authority, had ever accomplished.

Nala stood in silence for a moment, emotions swilling and heart pounding, to look over her two companions. Her mother's expression was a mixture of bewilderment, concern, and awe. Sarabi, again, was trying to banish the pain she felt with her desire to see the Pride flourish.

She has no idea, Nala thought, what I'm about to say.

The young lioness looked at each of her companions in turn, then held Sarabi's gaze. She wondered her words could possible be adequate.

"Simba is alive." It was all she could think to say.

Sarabi reeled backwards with shock and sucked in a gasp, "But how can that be?"

Sarafina was too stunned to say anything. She just stood and stared, frozen in shock.

Nala dropped her gaze and spoke with soft awe, "I don't know, but it's him—oh it's really him. And he-he's really the king, and he's coming home, and-and…" She was suddenly at a loss for words.

"Where? _Where_ is he?" Sarabi was suddenly anxious to see her son.

"Back there a ways," Nala gestured with her head, "near a stream—we both thought it best if we didn't spring him on everyone at once."

Sarafina snapped to attention, "I'll go back and tell them—you" she turned to give her friend a hard head bump, "you go meet your son."

Sarabi and Nala loped quickly though the tall grass. Sarabi, eager and pressing ahead, often had to wait for Nala to catch up and give directions. Nala was just happy to see her mentor's happiness.

They reached the top of a high sloping hill, and Nala, knowing where to look, saw Simba resting on some rocks, his red mane like a flame above the underbrush.

"Over there," she nodded in the right direction, "On the rocks."

Sarabi crammed her neck with several moments, searching, and then gasp as she caught sight of her now adult son. She was instantly off and running across the wide expanse of grass. Nala stayed back to give them some time together before she joined them.

Simba was drowsy in the afternoon heat and didn't look up until his mother splashed across the shallows of the creek bed. The sound of got his attention and he, rather ungracefully, scrambled to his feet and hopped off his perch. They met each other halfway for a long nuzzle. Pulling back, they both had tears in their eyes. Neither spoke for several minutes.

To Simba's great sadness, his mother looked gaunt and haggard, but he recognized a familiar twinkle in her eyes—not knowing that no one had seem that twinkle in years. Sarabi, on the other hand, felt only the deepest joy when she looked at her son. To her, he was as regal a lion as she had ever seen.

"Mom-I" Words failed him. What should he apologize for first? Accidently killing her mate, or letting her and the rest of the Pride suffer under Scar. To him this was a lose-lose situation…and yet, he knew that it was his responsibility to bear.

"No son, don't talk right now—it's enough to know that you're alive and well. I don't care about anything else."

Nala, who thought they ought to be getting back to the Pride, came jogging up, and was greeted warmly by Simba and a warm smile from Sarabi.

"We ought to getting back, shouldn't we?" Out of habit, she looked at Sarabi but the older lioness pinned her ears back in a mild reprimand and gave a half-nod to her son. It was for the king to decide the Pride's movements. Simba nodded, "Lead the way."

* * *

Just prior to twilight, with the sun painting the sky with great streaks of orange, purple, and red, as it sunk behind the trees, Simba lay erect on the ground, his mane ruffled by a light evening breeze, watching over his family. He thought back on the afternoon. It had been joyous reunion with his Pride, filled with head bumps, nuzzles and excitement. Afterward, Simba had led them to a watering hole where they had nabbed a zebra and gorged themselves sick. Now, with full stomachs and content hearts, most of the Pride was settling in for the night. Several lionesses had already dozed off.

He saw her rise from her spot at the edge of the pile of bodies and move silently toward the woods for one last drink before bed. Simba's heart rose in his throat—he must talk with her. It didn't matter what she said, he wouldn't feel right until he made an attempt at an explanation.

At the sound of footsteps, Sarabi raised her head.

"Hello, son." Her golden-bronze eyes held a warm twinkled in the darkness.

Simba took a deep breath, "Mom—I-I must try to explain myself." His voice growing steadier with the knowledge that it was right to talk to her.

"I left you with a tyrant and I have explain why in order to be the kind of king dad would want me to be. You must know"

She looked at the ground, unsure if she really wanted to know. She hadn't allowed questions to arise in her mind, and yet, deep down, she knew that she had many questions. She looked at the ground and spoke softly, "I want you to know that, whatever it is, I'm glad you're coming home." She meant his eyes, "_You_ must know."

Simba looked grieved, suddenly feeling the burden he had carried for so long, "It was my fault, you know."

Sarabi looked confused, "What?"

"The stampede." Simba swallowed hard. He had to tell her, she had to know.

She looked confused, "I don't understand."

Simba gave skook his head in mild frustration, as if that would make her understand, "It was an accident; I didn't mean for it to happen—I was playing in the gorge, the herd came running through, dad—he tried to save me." His voice pleaded for her to understand. Sarabi only looked at him as if he were nuts. Words finally failed him.

"Simba," his mother was matter-of-fact, "A herd doesn't totally blow its stack because a cub is playing nearby—it generally takes hunting adults to get anything close to that."

Simba was taken aback, "What? But—"

Was she saying his life, for all these years, had been based on a lie?

""You could _not_ have caused that stamped."

"But-but, that's why I ran away—Scar said-"

"_Scar_? What does he have to do with this?"

"He was the first one to come upon us—actually, he said dad had a surprise for me that day—that's why I was in the gorge-waiting for dad and his surprise."

Sarabi snorted, "I'll bet he did."

Simba was startled, "You don't believe that?"

Sarabi averted her eyes again to hid sadness, "No—but there are many things about your uncle that you don't know—adults tend to keep things from cubs—maybe more than we should."

Simba began to look uneasy, "So what don't I know then?"

"Scar was always jealous of your father. Mufasa would be king. Mufasa was betrothed to me. Mufasa was bigger and stronger. On and on, things like that."

Simba digressed a bit in the conversation. "So, you don't think I caused the stampede?"

"I know you didn't."

He looked at the ground, hurt by the new information, and exhausted by the emotions running through him, "I'm sorry I left," he said softly

She gave him a head bump, "What's done is done, son. You can't change the past, only the future."

Then Sarabi changed the subject, "There are more lionesses now. We're not the only ones."

Simba was taken aback, "More? Where are they?"

"Wherever Scar wants them go."

She explained, "He brought them in from somewhere, back when he was younger. I suspect that they were a pride without the protection of a lion—he said he won a great battle, but that can't be true. Even in his prime, Scar was no worthy opponent." She gave Simba a stern look, "They will fight with him, I've no doubt; they don't know you."

"How many are they?"

"Ten lionesses of various ages and one boy cub from Scar. The lioness he impregnated is with cubs again—although, not heavy yet."

"How old is the cub?" The thought of Scar's son was revolting to him.

"He's an adolescent—a strange one too."

Simba gave an involuntary shudder. His mother didn't miss it.

"Son, your father would want you to make peace with this part of our family—that is what they are—our family. He would want you to include them in your kingdom. That cub, strange as he is, is your cousin. He's one of us."

Simba looked at the ground and gave a sigh; he wanted to be the kind of king that would please his father, but he wasn't sure he could in this situation.

His mother nudged his massive shoulder, "Promise me that you will try, my son—for your father."

He gave a half-nod to please her, but remained doubtful. She knew he doubted her, but she was confident he would see the truth of these words when it counted.

She moved to return to the Pride, "Come son, everyone is waiting."


End file.
